My first Burning Man and why I’m not going again next year
One of the first things I wanted to do after spending a week in the desert eating hot pockets was journal my thoughts about my first Burning Man experience. The week was a culmination of months of preparation and thousands of dollars worth of expenses. It also landed on my 30th birthday — a literal dirty thirty — I was looking forward to it and had a great time but it’s probably not for me.
The Good
Having read much about the Burning Man ethos led me to believe it was a free-spirited environment where people explored their vices, fundamentally changed how they interacted with others, or embarked on major self-discovery tourism. And I was right. It was a society away from society and could never be replicated in “default world.”
Because the default world isn’t generous and it’s not kind. Default world operates on receiving and using. When people normally ask “so what do you do?” there’s often an insidious motive that hopes the person answering can provide some form of value.
Burning Man collects tens of thousands of people who earnestly want you to have a good experience. They express it in different ways: Art, music, food, drinks, heckling, hugs, sex, gifts, or their talent/craft. It’s a place where people mutually and lovingly understand, “Yeah we’re in the middle of the desert with no running water, but let’s make the most of it. Here, take this shot, idiot.”
My intention going into the Playa was to survive. Afterward, it was to indulge in self-exploration. The highlights of my trip were:
- Camp Sasquatch’s circus show full of cirque dancers on the eve of my birthday where I, hands down, saw what has to be the greatest body contortionist alive.
- Camp Settle This Like Men’s MMA camp where I took a Muay Thai lesson, sparred, and got to practice my favorite craft with some friendly, but dangerous people.
- Camp Contact’s Identity Deconstruction workshop where I spent 2 hours staring directly into strangers’ eyes and vice versa, breaking down how I viewed myself and others.
- Having an enlightening and honest conversation about how polyamory works in theory and practice for an hour with two individuals at camp Yes Please.
- Heckling people who rode past our camp (CornHub) to drink our fruity vodka cocktails and eat our corn-themed food. Sometimes at 6 AM. I consider myself an expert on alcoholic sexual innuendo at this point.
- Riding out to the Temple after sunrise on very little sleep. Empathizing and accepting in the energy of a hundred other burners mourning their lost loved ones. I’ve never walked into a place where I immediately felt a distinct change in mood, instantly feeling tremendous solemn and despair.
- Seeing my best friends have the time of their lives, indulging in what can only be provided by the Playa.
The Playa enforces a mindful state, whether you like it or not. Events are ephemeral — one minute you might be enjoying the sunset, sunrise, or an art car. A minute later it’s gone and you’re onto the next distraction. It was a constant reminder that things come and go and to appreciate everything in the moment.
I learned a lot about myself, what I click with, what I don’t. There’s a lot I thought about in terms of what being a good friend means and how to actively contribute to friendships. I’m glad I was able to take a few lessons out of the Playa and into default world.

The Bad
The dust in your nose and lungs. The unbearable heat in your tent at exactly 9:57 AM every goddamned morning, irrespective of what time you went to bed. The majority of the music. Showering requiring herculean levels of effort. The nagging cold I caught mid-week.
There’s a lot of good at Burning Man but as a health freak, it was really hard for me to reconcile the dramatic loss of nutrition and stable bodily function. I like to think I can tough it out but if I were to do it again, I’d want to do it in an RV. Maybe I’m soft but there’s a million things to do and see at Burning Man and having a good night’s rest gets you up and running quicker.

The Ugly
Here’s where it gets rough. The Playa is all-consuming and unforgiving, and for those who are attracted to it, there’s a lot to be had. But for those who are introverts or who have depression or social anxiety, it can be overwhelming.
I wrote about the Burning Man ethos earlier, but one thing I somehow failed to realize going into the week was that most of it is constant partying.
And if that’s your thing, go wild and have a blast (and take this shot, idiot). But there were moments where I wanted to escape. Times I felt like Burning Man was a prison and nothing else could be better than going somewhere quiet, watching the last season of Adventure Time, and talking to my default world friends or family. Instead, my best case for refuge was holing up in my dusty tent with a neighboring sound-camp blasting German industrial house music on max bass, hoping to get a sliver of data on my phone to send messages.
Coupled with some intra-camp personal conflict, this can turn out to be a personal Hell for some people. I had great moments, and once I felt settled into Burning Man (by sleeping early to avoid the morning heat, heading out to visit camps/events during the day time and avoiding the partying at night), I understood why I went. But I pride myself on living with full optionality and freedom of choice. Feeling trapped some nights was antithetical to that and what I thought I was seeking at Burning Man: complete self-expression and acceptance.
Don’t get me wrong — I love drinking and hanging out with friends, so much so that I moved to Tokyo for 6 months just to drink every day (a little more socially acceptable there, ya know?) and meet people. But I always had an escape route or a breather if I needed it. The Playa seldom offers that, and it affected me so much that I didn’t even try to drink much the last few days.

So I don’t think I’m going back to Burning Man next year. I don’t regret going, and I’m glad I did it, but it’s important that one knows what they’re getting themselves into and adequately prepares themselves to be swallowed up by the Playa. Like a firecracker, if you handle it thoughtfully, you’ll get amazing results.
Otherwise, I once read that even though there’s 70,000 people at Burning Man, there will be times where you will never feel more alone.
